


Holy

by gunnedrobin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunnedrobin/pseuds/gunnedrobin
Summary: Because Jason was holy. And you’d worship him every single day if he asked you to.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	Holy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by King Princess' song, Holy.
> 
> This is actually my first time posting my work here. Wishing this goes well.

The cold air blows against the surface of your drenched suit, the rain poured from dusk until the early hours of the morning and you were caught up in the middle of it all. You clenched your teeth as you hoisted yourself up the window, partly in pain as the already battered muscles tried to carry your dangling weight, and partly because the edges were slippery against your gloves.

Slightly parted curtains told you that he was inside. You slide the window pane open as silently as possible before entering through it like you've done a million times. Shutting the blinds before turning to face the darkened room, you took a minute to catch your breath, deft fingers reaching to massage tired eyelids. During the first days, the darkness wasn’t as comforting as it did when you were out for patrols or missions. You're used to blending in with the dark for your night job, but it seems you will never be used to the dark seeing the deepest parts of you when you take the suit and the mask all off, you felt bare, as if it read the secrets of your soul. Sometimes you hate yourself for it, hated being sentimental and emotional and the weakness that came along with it, as if years training in the All-Caste meant nothing. You were used to being alone, used to the sound of your own heartbeat lulling yourself to sleep, eating home cooked meals in front of your TV, enjoying either early-morning or late-afternoon coffee sometimes with a book or a well prepared case file, or just plainly cleaning your unit when your busy schedule allowed you to. Truth be told, you were contented with how things were, it was simple, and the routine was easy. 

_Used to._

Because nowadays, almost a year and a half after your reunion in this city, he spent almost every night with you. You lost track as to when all of this truly started, lost track of the transition from spending your lonely nights with nothing but the noise coming from your television in the background as you slept on the couch, to your rather private and intimate arrangement. You can't really remember how the both of you came in to terms with this thing you both had going on, for one, you were pretty sure it flew out the damn window the moment your skin got in heated contact with each other. 

You didn’t mind it at first. Not even after the both of you lay there panting from a rather vigorous, _nightly victory celebration_. Not even when his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, the tips of his fingers bruising your hips. His mouth leaving angry red marks across your skin. Not even when your breaths mingled with each other’s, along with involuntary noises that faded into the night sky or when the both of you pass out only to wake up hungry the next morning. Sometimes you wished it stayed that way. Because again, you were _used_ to that way.

You realized everything was changing when you noticed you started to look forward a little more excitedly than before on the nights he came over. You felt a weird wave of fuzz and comfort when the both of you were sitting atop your open windowsill, beer in hand as you both looked up the night sky, talking about the old days, and the plans for upcoming missions or when his breath came out in silent puffs as he laid beside you _after_ your nightly activities, you wondered why it came to this, asking yourself a couple of times where all this yearning came from. Asking yourself what was wrong as you looked across the table, waiting for his comment as he chewed on your new breakfast recipe.

It was easier had everything stayed the same, had both of stayed like your teenage selves, training somewhere in the Himalayan. Working yourselves off in the Chamber of All, looking forward to beat each other up and proving to Ducra who was more ready and deserving. Trying to grab each other’s throats hoping to make the other realize who was stronger, who could survive longer. After all, it was easier for you to speak with your fists. You may not admit it, but he was the one better with words, though he told you that somewhere along the way, he lost faith in it. 

You realized you were screwed when it felt empty whenever he left whether be it on a mission, patrol or when he went home. The shock in your eyes as it dawned on you what you were doing: you unconsciously snuggling on the opposite side of the bed, _his_ side of the bed. Sniffing the pillows he previously used because it brought a sense of calm and peace with it. And to make it worse, you started lighting up cigarettes even if you didn’t particularly smoked yourself, placing it carefully to burn on an ashtray _for him_ in your study because the scent reminded you of him. You were deeply and utterly fucked, no pun intended, when you started wanting him more with his clothes on rather than to have him as a naked panting mess, when you started wondering how the domestic set up with him felt like. You were mad at yourself because you didn’t want to admit that this apartment was _home_ when he was in it.

_Home sweet home._

You are careful not to step on the newly changed carpet, careful not to soil the carpet that _he_ picked with the mud from your boots. You hastily take it off and carry it with you as you tiptoe towards where the washing machine was, not bothering to turn the lights on as you did. You carefully peel the suit off of you, wincing silently as you moved. Today was a pretty rough night, and as you would put it, (when he asks tomorrow): ‘they put up a fight, a quite impressive one on their part, really’.

_~~Because of course you won’t tell him that Bane caught your leg midair as you attempted to assault from above, you won’t tell him that you grappled with a man twice your size, possibly more, that he almost had you if it weren’t for his brothers stepping in just in time. Because if he knew, then he won’t take days off like these anymore. Plus you didn’t want the trouble of explaining to him that no, you were not getting rusty, and that yes, you were preoccupied. And yes he was part of the reason why you were indeed preoccupied.~~_

You are lucky enough to go home with no broken bones and bullet holes. Left only in your underwear and placing your suit on top of the washer. You weren’t stupid, you knew what was happening to you. You knew that every day spent with him was another nail on your coffin and a golden ticket to Stranger Town. If only you were as straight forward as Kori and Barbara.

_“….I love him. I made it really clear to Dick when I realized I did.” Kori smiled, gazing at you with her green love-struck irises two weeks ago when you asked her what she did when she realized she had feelings for Grayson._

_“….well, we didn’t work out, but I’m glad we took the leap back then. At least we tried.” Barbara said a few days after that over a few drinks when the both of you were out on a ladies night, when you asked her how to deal with having to let someone go._

You mulled over those lines for the nth time this day. Dick must’ve been really lucky. Being surrounded with courageous women like that. Sometimes you think about taking that leap of faith too, but never having the strength to actually push through. Your tongue swipes across your bottom lip, brushing over the dried blood that formed on its right corner. You haven’t seen your face yet, but you were pretty sure you were going to need a lot of concealer for the next few days. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, you head for the bedroom.

The rain has stopped and the purple shades of dawn crept inside your bedroom. The sight before you sends a pang on your chest, the one that you felt whenever you stared at his smiling face for too long. He was there, dressed only in his black boxers, sprawled across your bed, mouth slightly open as light snores escaped him, telling you that he had been sleeping in here for a while. His hair spread in all directions, showing you that forehead you secretly wished you could kiss goodnight. It was one of those rare nights, when the nightmares spared him some rest, and he was in deep peaceful sleep. You would trade your soul if that meant he spent his nights as peaceful as this, it didn’t matter if it was in your bed ( _but sure it would’ve been a plus)_ or his, just seeing him at peace made you almost tear up. Once upon a time you would’ve chide yourself for being so mushy and emotional, but as much you hate to admit, Jason will always have that special soft spot of your heart whether you liked it or not.

He was beautiful, in and out, over and back. Glorious even, a sight to behold, and a bunch of adjectives that meant the same thing, you could go on and on. It was a sight you tried to etch in your memory, _just in case._ You wanted to tell him that every day if you could. Tell him that he was a being, a masterpiece worth so much more than what he perceived himself to be. That no matter how much he tells you the he was broken, you could never bring yourself to see him that way.

He never cried, he told you that. You believed him too. You knew about the things he'd been though, you knew that he literally dug himself out of his own grave, he knew and understood pain in a deeper sense that you'd never understand, you knew that. And even then you never saw him cry. But there were days when you feel like he was on the verge of doing so, there was a distinct shade of pain, of regret, and remorse that you saw every now and then. They were there whenever he was at lost for words, trying to reach out but not finding anything to hold on to. They were there whenever you had to wake him up in the middle of the night because he was twisting and turning in his sleep, murmuring and sometimes screaming incoherent words. You want to tell him that it’s okay to cry if he wanted to, that tears are okay and that no matter what, you’ll hold him and wipe off his tears if he needed you to, that you will understand or to the very least, should he claim that you won't, you will try. The teenage years are over and trying to prove who was stronger was gone in the past, and now it is an established fact that he will always be far more stronger than you'll ever be, and you' re okay with that. You adored him either way. 

He claims to you that what made him were nothing but cracks and rough edges, and you long to tell him that even so, aren't we all cracked, rough and scarred one way or another? That even if yours didn't run as deep as his, nothing will ever change because you want him for him, for what he was regardless. Him alone. And you loved every single bit of it. You'd trace each and every single one of his scars with your lips, that you'd listen to the story of how he got every single one of it. That he was a masterpiece of a soul that brought you to your knees with just one look. If only you could take all those things that weighed him down and crush it in your hands. 

**Because Jason was holy. And you’d worship him every single day if he asked you to.**

He turns to his side. Still in deep slumber, you walk on your toes, careful not to stir him or wake him up. You place your water bottle on your bedside table before placing the blanket over him, up to his shoulder. A strong hand grabs your wrist before blue hues meet yours.

_So much for not waking him up._

“You’re home.” his voice gruff and still heavy with sleep.

You offer him a small smile that immediately sends a gush of pain in your lips. Apparently you cut another side of your bottom lip too. He lets go of your wrist as he tries to sit up, the ripple of the muscles on his arms does not escape your eyes, you avert them when you realized what you were doing.

 _Damn it (y/n), it’s too early for ogling._ You scold yourself. It’s not as if you’re in a condition to take some extra _action_ should he notice you checking him out. You settle for the idea of a bath and head for the bathroom.

His squints for a few seconds before his eyes adjusts to the light. _Or lack thereof._ You hope that he did not notice your condition for now. His eyes dart to the clock on your bedside table on his left. The green digits reading 3:30, before he catches your back entering the bathroom door on the opposite side. He hears the light switch and the white glow comes out from the door you didn’t even bother to close properly. 

“Long night?” he asks.

“Sort of, but not quite.”

You stare at your reflection, finally catching up with what the actual damage looked like. There was a bruise forming on the side of your lip, the one where you tasted dried blood earlier. A similar red trail coming from your right nostril, a small cut above your left brow. Now that the adrenaline has worn out, you start to feel a dull ache spreading from your back. You turn sideways to examine yourself, only to see fresh purple marks and tiny lacerations from when you skid down the pavements and from the early grappling fight. Nothing that needed stitches. For someone who faced Bane, you were actually pretty proud of how you came out. Taking off your underwear, you step under the shower head, turned the knob and let yourself be doused with the cold water.

You didn’t like the water’s color as it traveled to the drain next to your toes. No. You didn’t like that one bit. Rolling your left shoulder, your right, before turning your back on the shower head, you let out a sigh. Taking the shampoo bottle from the rack you started to clean yourself.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing Jason noticed when he grabbed your wrist was how cold it was. He thought about how you must’ve stayed under the rain for a long time tonight. Next was the stiffness in your movements as you moved away from him and the brief glimpse he had of your back as you vanished into the bathroom. He got up, silently following you, stealing a peak, a hitched breath gets caught up in his chest when he had finally seen your battle worn state. While it was true that he’d seen you in far more worse shapes, that doesn’t change the fact that it boiled something deep inside him whenever he sees your skin painted black and blue, and at times, red.

If it were up to him actually, he would’ve preferred if you stayed out of this business in general. You were a very capable fighter, he knew that. You were on par with him, that was true. Even Ducra acknowledged that. He knew it was not his call to tell you what you should or should not do, you were vigilantes after all, still there were parts of him that wished you didn’t get hurt at all.

He found himself searching your wardrobe, he was looking for something comfortable for you to sleep in. He reached for one of his shirts and a pair of your fresh panties. There was something in seeing you in one of his shirts that made his heart melt. Something that made him yearn for the feel of your hands playing with his hair as he drifted to sleep during the after hours. It made him warm, you always waited for him to sleep first, sometimes toying with his hair, sometimes massaging his head or even drawing patterns on his skin as you hummed a tune. To be honest, it actually looked as if your eyes told him you were keeping watch, and knowing that put a sense of assurance deep within him and it's as if he wasn’t afraid anymore. He was actually. He was scared of a lot of things, he often feels that you can see through him, and you probably know that indeed he was, that deep down the hard shell he worked so hard putting up, you knew him to his core. 

But then again maybe he was just putting too much meaning into it.

Because truth be told, he knew _exactly_ what he wanted from you, he was just, with a lack for a better word, _terrified_ of what could happen if he actually asked it from you and say it to your face.

There was this looming fear of the inevitability of losing you that almost amounted to the fear he felt when he knew he was dying when he thought about actually telling you what he felt. He hated it. It was easier if feelings can be shot down with guns, but unfortunately, it can’t. He couldn’t actually articulate it in to exact words, but he could however, compare it to the small things in life that made him happy to some extent. It was like warm bread, or a cozy bed after a long mission, a sunny day, the first day of spring, good food, and a whole lot of things that brought a moment of peace in his soul.

He remembered the look in your eyes when he took you to Damian’s first football match, you thanked him later that day, telling him that you were grateful for him letting you tag along and letting you see the legendary Damian at play, for him letting you be a part of precious moments like this, you knew how much his family meant to him, even if he never really said it out loud. Dick gave him a funny looking smile from behind your back when he overheard. He raised his eyebrow at his brother in silent question back then as you went on to hug and congratulate the demon spawn. If only you knew that you integrated yourself in his life in so many ways.

There was pride that he felt when you mewled his name, the way you sang it as if it was a tune from the gods themselves. The way you held him in and out the erotic sense, anchored him to a certain piece of reality that he hold dear. Both of you were here, you were real. You and him existed together. Even if it’s just for a while.

Jason straightened the sheets and arranged the pillows. The spirit of sleep left him a few minutes ago.

When he saw you, you were now sitting in the tub, letting the warm water reach up to your breasts, eyes closed, as if you actually fell asleep in the middle of the water save for your left hand squeezing your right shoulder massaging yourself. You had a habit, he noted. You always did that whenever you were in deep thought or you were willing a painful memory to go away. It reminded him of a time when you he saw you bathing in the river after someone told some hurtful things about you during training. You never admitted that you cried back then, and he never told you he heard your sobs.

He closed the toilet seat and sat on it. You looked at him and he noticed the bruise forming on your lips. He let out a hiss before gently reaching out his hand, asking you to place your chin on it. You did. He gently ran his thumb over it, you almost never felt the ghost of his touches. He clicked his tongue and very lightly, shook his head.

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

“Care if I join you?”

You shrugged in response, moving to make some space for him. He stood up and took off his last remaining clothing. _Sight to behold indeed, you thought._ You always stared at him like that. Not in any _particular_ place but him as whole, he wondered what came to your mind but the red in your cheeks told him otherwise.

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

“Yup.” You smiled as you nodded, giving him a light chuckle. The chuckle dies down before you look at him again and continue, “You’re beautiful, you know that, Jason? You’re beautiful.”

He finally steps in the tub with you. Looking at your injuries up close, he was thankful that none of them where serious enough to need stitches and there was nothing that some bandages and ice packs couldn’t heal. He refrains from massaging your back, fully aware that he didn’t want to add to the bruises starting to form. Instead, he pulls you closer to him; you let him.

And here you were, the two of you both naked. Your back against his chest, and you feel him resting his forehead against your shoulder and you hear deep breaths. His breath fanning across your skin in warm waves.

You reach backwards to ruffle his hair. And you hear a faint whisper, _"I miss you, baby."_ It sent shivers down you spine, it was not everyday he called you that. You close your eyes, trying desperately to still your beating heart and failing miserably, you want to cry, and tell him you love him, you wanted to for so long, yet even now you know that you can’t let the spur of the moment take you. Your eyes open with a thin layer of tears in them, on the verge of falling, you tried to look up, willing for them to go back down. The uncertainty envelopes your chest and grips your throat. You tried to ignore the urge, the voices in your head kept telling you to let the words out of your mouth.

_Take the leap. Take the leap._

You almost did, but you settle for clenching your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut. A deep breath. You take his hand and press it against your lips. You whisper back, _'I'm here ",_ because you are. Always will be.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two of you lay down waiting for sleep to claim both of you once again. The sun makes no attempt to show signs of appearing as the rain starts to pour again, the pitter patter against glass fills the silence as you do nothing but stare at his eyes.

You staring at him like that makes him restless even if doesn’t show. His hand reaches for yours and you move in closer. Clutching his hand with equal strength. He can feel the warmth of your exhale against his cheek, he traces the band aid above your brow travelling slowly and carefully to your cheek. You lean in against his warmth, trying to suck it up. Both of your feet tangled with his, and it is as if the two of you form an infinite tangle of limbs, nowhere to begin, nowhere to end. Your eyes travel along the details of his face, his brows, the edge of his nose, the little white scars peppered in the most random of places, his lips, his chin, the light freckles on his cheeks. You wondered how much perfection can one man fit inside himself, because Jason was beyond words. It should be illegal, you thought to yourself. He will be the death of you, you were pretty sure of it. 

“(y/n)…” he whispers.

_Say it. Say it. Say it._

“Jason…”

He takes a sharp breath, trying to muster up all the courage that he could. There will never be a perfect time, he thinks. A chance like this might never go by again, and all he knew was that he didn't care anymore, he had to say it. He needed to say it. He wanted to say it.

You feel his hands tremble against your cheek and you place your hand against his. His breath almost become shallow pants, you tighten your hands around his. His lower lips gave the slightest shake as he inhaled through his mouth, closing his eyes before staring at you again, is he about to---

“…I’m here, Jason. I’m here.” You turn to kiss the palm of his hand, you feel the relentless beating against your chest. You didn't know what to do, you have no idea what's happening. "You can tell me anything, Jason", you tell him, hoping that you can help ease what was bothering him at this very moment.

_“I love you (y/n)…”_ ,

You hear his voice tremble, and you see tears escape his eyes…and you wonder…. _why it’s your vision that blurs._

“Jason....” You say nothing apart from his name, desperately trying to stop your sobs, because you never thought you'd actually hear that coming from his mouth, aimed at you. Your own hands are trembling now too. Finally, after so long. After so, so long. You both break down. You let go of his hands, reaching for his face, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. 

“I love you, Jason.So much. So so much.” 

And you kiss him.

You love Jason Todd simply because you do. The way he is, holiness and sin, the ups and the downs, the dark and the light. For all he is worth and everything more. You tried to pour everything in that chaste kiss, and you hope he feels it.

_**He does.** _

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment <3


End file.
